


Shot Right Through with a Bolt of Blue

by Sena



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Angst, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Friendship/Love, Kinks, M/M, Post-Split
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-31
Updated: 2011-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-23 07:40:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sena/pseuds/Sena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the split, Spencer's not talking to Ryan, but Ryan's talking to him.  More specifically, Ryan's leaving him dirty voicemail messages and it's messing with Spencer's head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shot Right Through with a Bolt of Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Cockhungry Spencer Meme](http://lalejandra.dreamwidth.org/197846.html), which I highly encourage everyone to participate in because let's be real, the world needs more cockslut!Spencer. Thanks to Lalejandra for letting me use her idea.

Three days after The Conversation, the one where Spencer kept thinking, _Don't say it, don't say it,_ but Ryan said it anyway, said, _We're leaving,_ said, _It's over,_ Ryan calls. Spencer looks at his phone and thinks about answering for half a second. Then he remembers Ryan saying, _It just feels like we're doing all the work and you and Brendon are just coasting along,_ and he hits the ignore button and sets his phone down on the kitchen counter and calls out, "Wanna go for a walk?"

Bogart goes from napping to wide awake and dancing back and forth on his feet next to the front door in less than fifteen seconds. When Spencer takes off at a jog, Bogart's delirious with joy, and Spencer focuses on that and the rhythm of his feet hitting the pavement and he doesn't think about Ryan at all.

Later, Brendon stands over where Bogart's stretched out on the kitchen tiles. "What did you do to him?" he asks, laughing.

"We went for a run," says Spencer. After the run, he'd jerked off in the shower, so he's mellow with an endorphin high, the most relaxed he's been in weeks.

"Walksies?" Brendon asks Bogart, then laughs. "Dude, come here, look."

Spencer strolls over to the kitchen and looks at Bogart.

"Walksies?" Brendon asks again. Bogart wags his tail furiously, but doesn't get up. "I've never actually seen him worn out before," he says. "I didn't know it was possible."

"It was a pretty long run," Spencer admits. He picks up his phone and sees that he has four missed calls and one voice mail. "Fuck," he says.

"What?"

"Ryan," Spencer says. He sighs and connects to his voice mailbox.

"Are you not talking to me now?" Ryan asks in the message. "Is this going to be, like, a thing? You know it's not about you, right?" Ryan sighs. "I fucked this guy last night because he looked like you, but it wasn't the same. He just kept moaning and grunting and I wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up and bury his face in the pillow so I could pretend it was you. I didn't, though. That would have been pretty rude, right? Anyway. Call me back."

Spencer deletes the voice mail and drops his phone back onto the counter.

"What did he say?" Brendon asks, worrying his lower lip with his teeth.

"He wants to know if me not talking to him is going to be a thing, now."

"Is it?"

Spencer shrugs. "Yeah, probably."

**********

The next time Ryan calls, Spencer's driving, so he feels perfectly justified when he doesn't pick up. When the voice mail notification beeps, though, the turns on his Bluetooth and listens to the message.

"Seriously, you're going to give me a complex if you never answer my calls anymore. I was thinking about that night in Germany. Was it Germany? The night we drank all that absinthe and then I was fingering you and you said you wanted me to see if I could fit my whole hand inside you. That was, Jesus, Spence. The sounds you made and the way you just took it, the way you just fucking opened for me. Christ. I've never done that with anybody else, before or since. That wasn't Germany, though, was it? It was Seville. The Hotel Alfonso. We had shrimp omelets the next day for lunch. Fuck, those were good. You should call me back."

Spencer deletes the message and wishes instead of just "ignore," his phone also had a, "punch Ryan in the face," button.

**********

"So, do you remember that time in the movie theatre when I came in your mouth and I didn't know that you hadn't swallowed, that you were just holding it on your tongue, and then you fucking kissed me, and Christ, I wanted to come again, right then, the way you just fucking--"

Spencer deletes the message without listening to the rest.

**********

"Spencer, come on, you have to talk to me. You know when I said we had to break up that I just meant the band, right? You know I didn't mean you. You know that I still need..." He sighs. "I need you. You do know that, don't you? You should call me back."

Spencer doesn't call Ryan back, but he doesn't delete the message, either. He listens to it three times that night, then seven times the next day. He thinks about downloading it to his computer, and as soon as he realizes that he's actually contemplating it, he deletes it.

Ryan calls a few days later, close to midnight. Spencer picks up. "Hey," he says.

"I, oh," Ryan seems startled. "Did you forget to screen your calls?"

"No. I knew it was you when I answered."

"It's not," Ryan says. "It's not like you can't join another band. You're really good, Spence. There are a lot of people out there who will want you. You could maybe even, I mean, if I talked to Jon--"

"No," Spencer says.

"You know Brendon'll go solo, and there are tons of people who will write for him, and all you have to do is just mention that you're looking for another band and the offers will pour in. You know they will."

"I don't need another band," Spencer says. "I'm in a fucking band."

"Spencer," Ryan says softly, and there's a twinge of pity in his voice.

"Fuck you," Spencer says. "You were never the band. My whole fucking world didn't fall apart just because you decided you wanted to record your own fucking Monkees tribute album. Brendon and I will continue on without you, shit, we've already got a guitarist and we're meeting with a bassist next week."

Ryan's silent for a long time. "I don't," he says. "What do you mean?"

"I mean Panic at the fucking Disco didn't fall apart just because you left."

"You can't," Ryan says. "That's, it's mine, the name--"

"We can," says Spencer. "We are. The label's behind us."

Ryan's voice is small when he says, "Oh."

"Didn't play out in reality the same way it did in your imagination, did it?" Spencer asks. "What were you hoping for?"

"I wasn't," Ryan says. "Spencer. I didn't. I wasn't hoping for any of this. I was trying to avoid this. But you know it wasn't working."

"I know," Spencer says. He closes his eyes. "So it's fine. You'll make music and we'll make music and fuck it. Whatever. It's done."

"Spencer," Ryan whispers.

Spencer says, "It's done," and hangs up the phone. He turns the ringer off and leaves the phone on his bed. He's thinking about raiding the fridge or drinking a beer or just stealing Brendon's cigarettes and sitting in the back yard smoking them until he makes himself sick, but when he passes Brendon's door he hears the television and Brendon's quiet laugh.

Spencer knocks on the door, then pushes it open. "You still up?" he asks.

"Family Guy," says Brendon. He scritches the top of Bogart's head. "You okay?"

"I just had the shittiest conversation of my entire life," Spencer says. He thinks about that for a moment. "Second shittiest. Both with Ryan, so, hey. He wins a prize."

Brendon scoots over to the far side of his bed and pats the empty space. "Family Guy is the cure for all ills. Meg's in a coma because she almost drowned in a flood trying to save Peter's beer. You want me to go back to the beginning of the episode?"

Spencer shakes his head as he climbs onto Brendon's bed. "That's okay. I'm pretty sure I'll be able to follow the intricate plot."

Brendon mutes the TV during the commercials but doesn't fast forward through them. "What did he say?" he asks.

"Well, if I'm a really good boy and behave myself, he might talk to Jon about letting me into their band."

"Oh," Brendon says. "Oh, um. Right. Well that would, I mean--"

"I told him to go fuck himself," Spencer says.

Brendon lets out a breath. "Okay. Right, that's. Awesome. Thanks."

"It's not a favor," Spencer says. "I'm where I want to be."

Brendon bites his lower lip.

"Show's back on," Spencer says, and doesn't look away from the TV.

**********

"They're threatening to sue me, Spencer. They say I'm breaking my contract. They're, fuck. Did you know about this? Did you know that they were...? Fuck. Okay. I _know_ , okay? I know this is my fault. I know I'm the asshole, here. I'm always the asshole, apparently. I'm starting to come to terms with that. I fucked that guy against last night. The one who looks like you. I asked if I could gag him and he thought it was hot, so it worked out well for both of us. I'd tell you to call me, but I know you won't, so, yeah. That's it, I guess."

**********

"I was thinking about the first time we ever fucked," Ryan says. His voice is low and his breath is shaky. "Do you remember? In your room. The blinds were open and I thought the neighbors could probably see us if they looked in through the window but I didn't even fucking care. That was, God. That was the hottest fucking thing that I ever, I mean, nothing before that even compared. I still. Fuck. I still think about it all the time. Every time I jerk off, I always go back to that, the way you looked, the way you sounded--" Ryan breaks off, and he's panting. He moans softly. "It felt so good, so fucking tight inside you, and I didn't want to stop but I was afraid I was hurting you, and then you just, you said, 'More,' and you meant it. You fucking meant it and I realized you wanted it just as much as I did, you fucking needed it as much as I did and, God, I wanted to fuck you forever. I wanted--" His voice breaks. "Nobody's ever wanted me like that, Spencer. Not ever. Nobody but you. Fuck, fuck, I'm so close, Spence. Spencer. Just, fuck, all those afternoons when you were determined to learn how to deepthroat, and you'd gag and you didn't even fucking care, you'd just keep sucking my cock, just fucking gag on it and keep going and you were always so fucking hard. I'd look down and your cock was always so hard and you wouldn't even be touching it, you'd just be getting off on sucking me, and I didn't even know, Spence. I didn't know it was possible for anybody to suck me like that. Fuck, why aren't you here? I want to fuck your mouth so bad, Spencer. I want to fucking come down your throat and fuck, fuck, Spencer--" Ryan goes silent, but Spencer hears his shuddering breath, knows exactly what he looks like the moment that he comes.

Spencer fumbles with his fly and shoves his hands down his jeans and he comes in less than a minute. He closes his eyes and he hears the recorded voice on a loop coming from his phone. _If you'd like to listen to this message again, press 1. If you'd like to delete this message, press 7. If you'd like to save this message to your voice mailbox, press 9. For more options--_.

Spencer presses 9.

**********

"You're an asshole," Spencer says when Ryan picks up the phone.

"Hmm?" Ryan asks. "What time is it?"

"Two o'clock in the afternoon."

"Oh. Right. Who is this?"

"It's your fucking mother. Who do you think it is?"

"Oh," says Ryan. "Right. So you're talking to me, now?"

"Apparently."

"Did you call just to tell me that I'm an asshole?"

"Pretty much. Also, I need your new address. I'm going to send over some papers you need to sign. There'll be an envelope enclosed with the postage already paid. You have to sign the papers, put them in the envelope, and send them back. Do you think you can do that?"

Ryan sighs sleepily. "You should just bring them over," he says.

"I'm not going to--"

"You know it'll be faster if you do. Plus, you have to see my new house. It has a moat."

Spencer sighs. "Of course it does."

"And bring sandwiches. I'm kind of out of food. Well, I have olives. Bring sandwiches that go well with olives."

**********

"You just leave your front door unlocked, asshole?" Spencer asks as he walks into Ryan's house. He's pretty sure it's Ryan's house. He's not sure how many other houses in LA have a moat.

Ryan's sitting at his kitchen table, eating olives out of a jar with his fingers. "I wasn't sure if you were coming," he says.

"I went to the fucking store. You can get groceries delivered, you know."

Ryan shrugs. "What did you get me?"

"Come help me unload the car and you'll find out. Asshole. Seriously, you keep leaving your door unlocked and you're going to get robbed. Or shanked. Or both."

"I like to live on the edge," says Ryan, following Spencer out to his car.

"Did you bring any beer?" Ryan asks once his counters are covered with grocery bags.

"No. And I'm going to unpack exactly half of these bags. If you don't unpack the other half, I'm going to take them with me when I go."

"I love it when you're bossy," Ryan says, and he gets up to help Spencer unpack the bags.

"Will you make me a pastrami sandwich?" Ryan asks once all the bags are unpacked. "On that rye bread. With spicy mustard."

"Make your own fucking sandwich," Spencer says. "Where's your room?"

"Down the hall," Ryan says. "Last door on the left. Why?"

"I'm going to go jerk off on your bed, that's why."

Ryan's bedroom has flocked red velvet wallpaper and red carpet. Spencer rolls his eyes and pulls his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the floor. He steps out of his shoes and shoves his jeans down and when he climbs onto Ryan's bed, he can smell Ryan's skin and a the slightly sour odor of sweat. He kicks the blankets down and stretches out on his back and starts to play with his nipples. He squeezes and pinches with his left hand, sliding his right hand down to cup his balls. He's just started teasing his cock when Ryan appears in the doorway.

"Oh," Ryan says. "I thought maybe you were being sarcastic."

"Nope. It's like jerking off in a 70s bordello in here."

"I know, right?" Ryan asks with a grin.

"You going to join me or not?"

Ryan strips quickly and climbs onto the bed. "Skooch up," he says.

Spencer moves up so that his shoulders are on the pillows, his head against the wall. He parts his lips when Ryan straddles his chest and moves his hands to cup Ryan's ass. Ryan's cock fills his mouth, still only half-hard, and he uses suction and his tongue to bring him the rest of the way.

"Love that you let me do this," Ryan says, rocking his hips in short, slow strokes. "Wish you could see how hot you look like this."

Spencer glares up at him with a look that he hopes conveys, _Less talking, more fucking my face_. Ryan doesn't seem to get the memo, though, because he pulls his cock out of Spencer's mouth and rubs it against his lips, his cheeks. He shudders, and Spencer knows how much Ryan loves the feel of Spencer's beard on the sensitive underside of his cockhead.

Spencer turns his head to the side and mouths at Ryan's shaft.

Ryan laughs softly. "Patience," he says.

Spencer says, "Fuck a whole bag of that. And my fucking face, while you're at it." He takes Ryan's hand and brings it up to his head, winds Ryan's fingers through his hair.

"Love it when you're bossy," Ryan says. He grips Spencer's head in both hands and slides his cock into Spencer's mouth, then further, down his throat, and Spencer's eyes water and his heart beats panicked and excited in his chest. He can't breathe, grips Ryan's hips tight but doesn't push him back, works himself through the fear of _can't breathe, can't breathe_ that always rises when they do this. Then Ryan pulls back and Spencer breathes hard and quick through his nose and he's ready when Ryan does it again.

"Spence," Ryan whispers. "So amazing. So fucking hot like this."

When he pulls back, Spencer gasps. His lungs are burning and his hips are rolling and his cock is so fucking hard.

"Can I do it again?" Ryan asks.

Spencer licks his lips and swallows. Nods. Opens his mouth. He closes his eyes and lets the tears fall as Ryan's cock slides down his throat again. He counts slowly in his head. Five seconds, ten, twenty. Ryan pulls back and Spencer gasps and shudders.

"Wanna fuck you," Ryan tells him. "Let me fuck you."

Spencer lets Ryan manhandle him onto his hands and knees. He spreads his legs wide and when Ryan says, "Do you want me to finger you open?" Spencer arches his ass up and says, "No."

It feels so good when Ryan pushes into him that Spencer has to press his face against his arm to muffle his moans.

"Don't," Ryan tells him. "You know I love the sounds you make. Spence. Come on, let me hear you."

Spencer drops down onto his elbows and he cries out when Ryan slams into him. Ryan's fingers dig into his hips and hold him tight.

"Hard," Spencer gasps. "Do it hard."

Ryan fucks into him with fast, brutal strokes, and it's amazing. Spencer sees sparks behind his closed eyelids and his nipples are tingling and his cock is so hard it's starting to drip precome. He twists the sheets in his hands and he's not even in control of the sounds he's making anymore, knows he sounds desperate and wanton, whimpering and pressing back into every thrust.

Then Ryan reaches for his cock, wraps his fingers around it and Spencer says, "Don't," but it's too late. He's crying out, coming, shaking and clinging to the bed so, so tight.

Ryan shoves him forward, onto his belly, and fucks him hard and jackrabbit quick. He's grunting and moaning in Spencer's ear, and then he goes silent and shudders and Spencer feels Ryan's come filling him in spurts.

Spencer moans softly when Ryan pulls out of him, then shivers as he feels Ryan's fingers prodding his hole. He spreads his legs further apart, lets Ryan dip inside with his fingers and then with his tongue. When Ryan presses on his hip, Spencer rolls over and tips his head up and lets Ryan kiss him deep, feeding Spencer his come.

"Hey," Ryan whispers, twisting his fingers in Spencer's hair.

"Hey," Spencer whispers back. His throat feels raw.

Ryan presses their foreheads together, then kisses him again, kisses him slow and lazy until they both fall asleep.

When Spencer wakes, the sun has gone down but there's a lamp on the far side of the room, casting faint shadows. Ryan's propped up on one elbow, watching him.

"Creepy," Spencer says.

Ryan laughs. "Will you make me a sandwich now?"

"No. But I really did bring papers over for you to sign."

Ryan sighs.

"You know you have to sign them eventually, right?"

"Can't I do it later?"

"It's like ripping off a bandaid," Spencer tells him. "Just get it over with." He gets out of bed and pulls on his boxers, heads into the kitchen and stops short when he sees the man peering into Ryan's fridge.

"Dude," Jon says. "When did you get so much food?" He turns and sees Spencer and says. "Oh. Hi."

"Hi," Spencer says. "Um, could you...?" He points to the thick manila envelope on the counter next to the fridge.

"Sure," Jon says. He picks up the envelope and hands it to Spencer.

"Thanks," Spencer says. His voice is wrecked. He sounds exactly like he's just had a cock shoved down his throat. He doesn't know what else to say, so he just turns and heads back to Ryan's room. "So, I'm pretty sure that if Jon didn't know we were fucking before, he knows now."

Ryan looks unconcerned. "You should get naked and ride my cock," he says.

Spencer drops the manila envelope on the bed. "Papers first," he says.

Ryan frowns.

"Bandaid," says Spencer.

Ryan sighs and says, "Okay."

Spencer has all the places where Ryan needs to sign and initial marked with Post-Its, so it takes less than five minutes. After he's finished putting the papers back in the envelope, Ryan says, "So I guess we're officially divorced, now."

Spencer sets the envelope on Ryan's dresser and climbs back into bed. "I guess."

Ryan curls up against him, runs his fingers over the bruises on Spencer's hip. "Will Brendon be mad that you're here tonight instead of with him?"

Spencer grins and rolls his eyes. "No, because we're not sleeping together."

Ryan looks up at him, surprised.

"You really thought I was sleeping with Brendon?"

"You're not?"

"No. Are you sleeping with Jon?"

Ryan makes a face. "No."

"Then why did you think I was sleeping with Brendon?"

"I don't know. The way you are together. I thought maybe. You're living with him."

"Not like that," Spencer says. He doesn't say, _He's my best friend_. He knows it would be cruel, even if it's true.

Ryan says, "Okay," and lays his head back down on Spencer's shoulder.

**********

Spencer gets home around dawn. Bogart barks at him, then takes off running in a circle around the kitchen and through the living room before darting out the back sliding glass door. Spencer follows him out and sees Brendon sitting there, watching the sunrise, drinking orange juice and eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"Hey," Spencer says softly.

Brendon looks over at him and grins. "It's the best day ever," he says.

Spencer smiles back at him. "Okay."

"I wrote Sarah a song," he says.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And it worked. I mean, she liked it. She's. We're gonna. I mean, it's just long distance for now, which sucks, but you know. We're gonna try."

"That's awesome," Spencer says, sitting in the lounge chair next to Brendon's. "Can I hear the song?"

"Maybe," Brendon says. "Not now, but, yeah. Soon."

Spencer nods and watches the sunrise, listens to the birds. When Brendon offers him half his sandwich, he takes it.

"Did Ryan sign the papers?" Brendon asks after a while.

Spencer smiles wryly. "How'd you know where I was?"

"Magic," says Brendon.

"Oh, right," says Spencer. "Of course."

"So?"

"He signed them. I saw Jon, too."

Brendon nods and sips his orange juice. "How's he doing?"

"I don't know. We didn't really talk."

Brendon pats his thigh until Bogart comes racing towards him and jumps up onto his lap. "You wanna go surfing later?" he asks.

Spencer's sore from his shoulders down to his toes. His thighs ache and he can feel his pulse in the bruises over his hipbones where Ryan's fingers had dug in. He says, "Yeah. Just let me shower and we can go."


End file.
